


Challenge

by Aipilosse



Series: Brim/Gil stuff [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Balar, Blow Jobs, End of the first Age, I wrote out a first age timeline for this, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Not Compliant With Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submission, but I thought you should know how much I overthought this, it doesn't come into this fic at all because it's pretty much, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aipilosse/pseuds/Aipilosse
Summary: The urge to interrupt Oropher was overwhelming. Celebrimbor tried to surreptitiously glance at the glass. Five minutes had passed. He carefully shifted his weight, trying not to aggravate the welts. It was a losing battle; Gil had been too thorough. As if he was listening to his thoughts, Gil-galad glanced at him from his place at the head of the table. His mouth didn’t move, but Celebrimbor could swear that there was amusement in his hazel eyes as he watched him squirm.ORCelebrimbor almost regrets taking Gil-galad up on his challenge. Almost.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Ereinion Gil-galad
Series: Brim/Gil stuff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097582
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28
Collections: Screw Yule 2021





	Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very different Celebrimbor and Gil-galad than I usually write, but I'm kind of liking them. I have Other Ideas for these two—we'll see if I get to them this month!
> 
> This uses one of the titles (+75 points) and a Super Prompt [7) The urge to interrupt [Name] was overwhelming.] (+250 points) from the Screw Yule Challenge :D

The urge to interrupt Oropher was overwhelming. Celebrimbor tried to surreptitiously glance at the glass. Five minutes had passed. He carefully shifted his weight, trying not to aggravate the welts. It was a losing battle; Gil had been too thorough. As if he was listening to his thoughts, Gil-galad glanced at him from his place at the head of the table. His mouth didn’t move, but Celebrimbor could swear that there was amusement in his hazel eyes as he watched him squirm. 

Círdan glared at him from across the table. Celebrimbor desperately hoped that Círdan didn’t know the source of his discomfort, but the ancient elf didn’t miss much. Maybe if he—the last shift knocked the plug in him and Celebrimbor dug his fingers into the table to keep from crying out. His sharp intake of breath wasn’t missed by the councilor next to him. She glanced over with concern. He smiled at her with all the reassurance he could muster.

And Oropher was still talking. The council meeting would never end. Celebrimbor imagined leaping up from the table and running out of the room. Or running over to Gil and tearing off his trousers. That would probably get Oropher to shut up, seeing him get fucked over the council table by the high king. 

“And so if you agree, Lord Celebrimbor,” the lord sounded a bit reluctant. “I can send over the supplies immediately.” 

Celebrimbor blinked a few times. “That sounds like it will work well for us Lord Oropher.” He replied. Valar—what had he agreed to? The challenge had sounded like fun a few days ago, warm and sated in Gil-galad’s bed, but now, with his ass throbbing, his hole burning, and still slightly aroused in a council meeting that had already gone thirty minutes over the three hours it was supposed to take, he had some misgivings.

“Are you sure?” Gil-galad asked from the head of the table. The bastard definitely looked amused now.

“Quite sure,” Celebrimbor bit out.

Erestor looked down at his notepad. “The next order of business is the matter of the road repair along the coast.”

Celebrimbor was unable to suppress a sigh. Fortunately Galadriel looked just as fed up. “My Lords, this meeting was supposed to end thirty minutes ago and I for one have other matters to attend to.”

“Matters more important than the governance of the remaining Free People of Beleriand?” asked Gil-galad with a raised eyebrow. Celebrimbor felt a momentary stab of pride. Just last year Gil wouldn’t have been bold enough to say that to Galadriel. He was really coming into his own.

“Matters more important than a road that’s been a disaster for months now,” Galadriel retorted.

Gil-galad just smiled at her easily. “Fair enough. We can adjourn today and resume the matter of coastal roads at our next meeting.”

Celebrimbor was careful to not stand too quickly, and also not to audibly moan with relief when the pressure against his welts finally ceased. He made his way out of the council chamber and exchanged pleasantries with Lady Torthril for a bit. He finally disengaged her and found himself at a loss of where to go. He could go to his own room, and wait for a message for Gil or for him to come himself. But no, he was too desperate for that. Besides Gil-galad’s rooms were best for fucking in. Celebrimbor was lucky that he didn’t have to share his room with anyone, but the walls were still thin. He headed towards Gil-galad’s rooms.

Once there, he faced another set of choices. He could act relaxed and unbothered and sit down by the fireplace to wait for him to return. He shuddered. Even the thought of sitting any longer was unpleasant. He began to shed his clothes, neatly folding them and setting them on a side table. Naked, he considered bending over the desk or spreading his legs on the bed in the other room. That would probably get him what he wanted quickest, but he wasn’t sure if he was that desperate yet.

Instead he decided to kneel in the center of the room, grasping at a bit of dignity. He artfully loosened his braid a bit, pulling out a few wisps, and arranged the dark braid over his shoulder. 

The minutes slowly ticked by. Celebrimbor wondered if he should’ve clearly told Gil that he was expecting him to continue the scene after the council meeting. He imagined Gil-galad returning to his rooms with someone else. Oh well, he'd been caught in more compromising positions than this. He shifted a bit, his welts still throbbing and his feet beginning to cramp. He glanced over at the bedroom and thought about getting up to apply more oil to the plug. The lubricant from earlier was wearing off and it was becoming uncomfortable. 

Before he had a chance to get up, Gil-galad walked in. He was alone, but he stood in the open doorway for a moment which Celebrimbor was in full view of. 

Celebrimbor just smiled. “Good evening my King.”

“I thought you’d be back here.” So the bastard had been making him wait on purpose. “How was the council meeting?”

“Long,” said Celebrimbor, watching Gil-galad move around the room. He didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry. 

“Mm, yes, Oropher can be quite wordy at times.” Gil-galad stood next to Celebrimbor and tilted his chin up, brushing a finger over his cheek before slipping two fingers into his mouth. Celebrimbor tried to suck on them as suggestively as possible, twirling his tongue around and tightening his lips around the fingers.

Gil-galad continued as if nothing was happening. “I really can’t believe you agreed to that deal with him; what were you thinking?” Celebrimbor tried to glare at Gil, but was somewhat hampered by the fingers. He bit down on the fingers, gently, but with enough force that Gil-galad would know it was intentional.

Gil-galad responded with a laugh and by hooking his fingers on Celebrimbor’s lower teeth and pulling down, forcing his mouth open. “Yes, I know what you want. Just be patient a little while longer.” He removed his fingers and wiped them off on Celebrimbor’s braid. Gil-galad walked behind Celebrimbor and began doing something out of his line of sight.

Celebrimbor burned with impatience but forced himself to sit still. Gil-galad made sounds around his desk, moving papers and opening drawers. There was the rasp of fabric and the clink of a belt being undone. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” Celebrimbor complied, still facing away from Gil-galad. “That looks like it hurts.” Gil-galad admired his earlier handiwork. From how it felt, he guessed that his ass was covered in dark red lines that would bruise to black and purple in the morning. He didn’t say anything but huffed impatiently. 

“Fine. Come here,” Gil-galad ordered. Celebrimbor crawled over to where Gil-galad leaned against his desk. 

Celebrimbor sat back on his heels again. “I’m being so good Gil.” 

Gil-galad laughed at him again. “Now you are, but earlier? You know you’ll need to pay Oropher with the crown’s money. You essentially made me a terrible deal.”

Celebrimbor rolled his eyes. “I really don’t want to talk about Oropher right now.”

“That’s too bad, because I really think you need to be punished for such a misstep.”

Celebrimbor felt his heart quicken. They hadn’t discussed this earlier, but he liked where this was going. It seemed that Gil was finally gaining the confidence to come up with some scenes himself. 

He pouted up at Gil-galad. “But you already punished me earlier today, and then I had to sit through that endless meeting. Haven’t I endured enough?”

“New mistakes require new lessons, else how will you ever learn?” He tucked a strand of hair behind Celebrimbor’s ear. He patted the space next to him. “Bend over the desk.”

Celebrimbor complied, spreading his legs as he rested his hips on the desk so that he had to rise on his toes. Maybe a little extra submission would get Gil to fuck him sooner. Then again, Gil-galad had come earlier while he had not, so the odds were not in his favor. 

Gil-galad ran his hands lightly over Celebrimbor’s welts, his cool hands soothing the burn. Then he grasped the base of the plug, pulled it out to its widest point and held it there. Celebrimbor gasped at the catch on his rim.

“Oh, you’re too dry. Here.” Gil-galad began to rummage in his desk. Celebrimbor squirmed a bit in anticipation. If Gil’s idea of punishment was fucking him over a desk, he wasn’t going to complain right now. He might correct him later though.

Gil-galad scooped something out of a jar with one hand and tugged the plug back with the other. Celebrimbor wrinkled his nose and looked over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“We’re out of oil,” Gil-galad replied. “You can thank the burning of the seed fields for that. You’ll have to make due with this.” He ran his finger around Celebrimbor’s rim, smearing more of the lard around the base of the plug. “Or I can leave you dry, maybe just use a bit of spit when I fuck you? I know you can take it.”

“No, no.” Celebrimbor hurriedly straightened his back and resumed his submissive posture. “This is fine.”

Gil chuckled and slapped his ass. Celebrimbor bit out a cry. Gil-galad tugged on the plug again, and began to move it with shallow thrusts. “That’s better.” He pushed it back in and bent to pick up something from the floor. Celebrimbor heard a clink, and felt the leather belt rest on the small of his back.

“You didn’t really think your punishment would be sex over the desk, did you?” Celebrimbor only groaned. “I know you better than that.” Gil-galad draped himself over Celebrimbor, resting his elbows on the table. He leaned down close to his ear and asked, “So, how many do you think you deserve?”

Celebrimbor swallowed. “If you’re using the belt, ten?”

“Ten?” Gil-galad lightly bit the tip of his ear. “You’d barely notice that.” Celebrimbor strongly disagreed, but he wasn’t in a position to argue. “I think twenty will do.” He straightened up. “I won’t make you count.”

“No, please,” Celebrimbor begged.

“Oh shush.” Gil-galad slapped his ass again. Celebimbor gasped. If that was how his hand felt, he could hardly imagine how the belt would feel. He felt his cock harden against the desk where it was trapped. “Now hold still, or I’ll add more to your count.”

Celebrimbor curled his fists in anticipation of the first blow. He tried to keep his breathing even and accept the inevitable pain. He heard the belt snap an instant before it hit and then it cracked over skin, a line of fire on his already raw skin. He managed not to cry out and dug his fingers into the desk.

“One.” The belt cracked again. This time it hit right next to the plug, jostling it and sending a whole different wave of sensations through Celebrimbor.

“Two.” Gil-galad was timing the strikes so that each one could be fully felt, not allowing the burning stripes of pain to blend into each other.

“Three.” There was no time to recover though. Celebrimbor tried to focus on his breath, and not the anticipation of pain.

“Four.” Gil-galad brought the belt down precisely on the top edge of his thighs, where he had focused his blows earlier that day. Celebrimbor couldn’t help the cry that escaped his lips.

“Five.” Celebrimbor felt a tear run down his cheek. Damn it. He didn’t usually cry. But then again he didn’t usually get beaten twice in one day.

“Six.” He could no longer contain his cries as the leather struck already bruised skin. 

“Seven.” He fought to stay bent over the desk. His calves shook with the effort of bracing his spread legs. 

“Eight.” The belt cracked over the plug again, jolting it against his inner walls. 

“Nine.” Celebrimbor cried out again as pain shot through him. By this point Gil-galad had spread the strokes evenly across Celebrimbor’s cheeks, so the ninth blow landed again on his favorite spot on the top of his thigh.

“Ten.” He felt on hand on his back rubbing soothing circles. “You’re doing so well. You might actually only get twenty strokes.” Celebrimbor whimpered at the thought of more being added to his punishment. Gil-galad grasped his hair, and turned his head to the side. “Valar, you’re actually crying.” He gently wiped away some of the moisture with his thumb. He tapped Celebrimbor’s hip indicating for him to rise a bit. He strained to rise a bit further on his toes. Gil-galad reached underneath him and squeezed his cock. “Still hard though. You’re such a deviant. Could I actually hurt you enough to get you to lose this?” he stroked Celebrimbor roughly a few times before removing his hand and picking the belt back up. “Only ten more. You can do this.”

Celebrimbor could not do it. By stroke fifteen he was closing his legs and trying to stand up. Gil-galad placed a hand between his shoulder blades and shoved him back down with surprising strength for his size. 

“Brim, you were so close!” He actually sounded disappointed, and Celebrimbor felt a pang of shame. “I’ll have to add five more.”

“No, please,” he couldn’t help begging.

“You’re lucky I didn’t make it ten. But I’ll grant some mercy. Wait, sorry I have to ask this, will you be alright if I whip your inner thighs?”

And he’d been doing so well. Oh well, this was much preferable than partners that didn’t ask and he had to stop them before he was hurt too badly. 

“Yes, just watch your aim if you keep hitting as hard as you have been.” His voice sounded shaky to his ears.

“Got it. Turn onto your back and hold your legs open.” Celebrimbor slowly moved into position, gripping his knees and completely exposing himself. Gil-galad pushed him back until his head dropped off the desk. “There,” he said with satisfaction. He grabbed the base of the plug and began to toy with it again. Celebrimbor moaned, reluctant pleasure pushing against the discomfort of his new position. 

“Are you ready?” Gil said.

“Yes,” Celebrimbor breathed. Gil-galad began to strike his inner thighs, alternating sides as he delivered the last ten blows. Celebrimbor managed to keep his legs open and tried to be thankful that they were falling on unhurt skin. 

Finally, Gil-galad counted “Twenty-five.” Celebrimbor sobbed in relief, but held his position.

“Now what do you say?”

“Thank you,” Celebrimbor choked out.

“Can you show me how thankful you are?” Celebrimbor raised his head and eased his legs closed. He slowly knelt back down, still dizzy from pain. Gil-galad leaned against the desk again; his posture was casual, but he was breathing heavily, some of his dark blond hair stuck to his cheek with sweat. He pulled off his tunic. His cock was pressing hard against his undergarments, a damp spot at the tip showing the perfect place for Celebrimbor to mouth through the cloth. 

After the cloth was soaked, Celebrimbor finally drew out Gil-galad’s cock and began to suck in earnest. He tried to use every ounce of skill he’d hinted at on Gil-galad’s fingers earlier as he moved his mouth along his shaft. He relaxed his throat and took him to the base, until damp curls tickled his nose. He held him there for as long as he could without breathing, letting the spasms of his throat tease the tip of Gil-galad’s cock. 

Gil-galad grabbed his hair and pulled him off. 

“Valar, you’re so good at that. I was going to make you sit at the desk and, I don’t know, do something, but I think you’ve earned a treat.”

Celebrimbor grinned at that, his eyes bright in his tear and spit streaked face. Gil returned the smile before grabbing the base of his braid and pulling him toward the bedroom. Celebrimbor tried to follow, clumsily scrambling after him. 

“Get on the bed, hands and knees,” Gil-galad ordered as he hastily removed the rest of his clothing.

Naked, he knelt between Celebrimbor’s spread legs, and slowly drew the plug out. Celebrimbor could feel him staring at his now empty, twitching hole. Gil traced a finger around the rim.

“Fuck me already.” Celebrimbor wiggled his hips a bit.

Gil slapped his ass; Celebrimbor yelped and collapsed on one arm. “Valar, you’re pushy for someone who’s been beaten to tears twice today. I suggest you keep your demands to yourself unless you want this greasy plug that’s been in your ass for four hours in your mouth instead.” Celebrimbor buried his face in the mattress. That was definitely not what he wanted. 

Gil-galad slid two fingers inside and scissored them. Pleased with the slick, loose hole, he wiped his fingers off on Celebrimbor’s back before lining his cock up and slowly pushing in. They both groaned when he was fully seated inside. The twin sensations of Gil-galad’s hips pushed against Celebrimbor’s bruised ass and his cock filling him up were exquisite. 

Gil-galad began to move, at the perfect angle to hit his prostate with every thrust. Celebrimbor pushed his hips back, trying to get Gil-galad to move faster. Gil-galad smacked him again, hot pain radiating from his hand. 

“Be good. And keep both hands on the bed.” He gradually increased his speed, but his thrusts remained even and controlled. Celebrimbor loved how even tempered and controlled Gil-galad was. He was born for the job he now had, leading the factuous remnants of Beleriand, easing their quarrels and dispensing justice that not everyone liked, but all could live with. It also made it all the more fun to see him lose control. 

He tightened around Gil-galad’s cock. It was the only movement that was allowed, but it was enough to drive Gil-galad wild. He felt his hips stutter, and then he resumed, hard now, mindlessly chasing his own pleasure. Celebrimbor focused on the pain and pleasure coursing through him now, and soon he felt his orgasm building to its peak. A perfect thrust from Gil-galad and he was coming, hours of pent up need finally released.

Gil-galad didn’t last long afterwards, coming minutes later with a loud curse. Gil-galad slid out of his body and Celebrimbor let himself collapse, utterly spent from hours of discomfort and arousal. He didn’t even bother moving up to rest on the pillows, and remained curled in the center of the bed as Gil lay next to him panting. 

“Hey.” Gil placed a hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” He rolled on his back and immediately regretted it, his deeply bruised flesh making itself known. He curled back on his side, this time facing Gil-galad. “You did so good. You’re such a natural at this.” 

Gil-galad smiled just enough that Celebrimbor could see his missing tooth, the only injury from a skirmish he’d been in last month. “Thanks. Um. You did really good too. I don’t know what it says about me that I like making you cry so much, but it’s so hot.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty crier.” He closed his eyes even as he joked. 

“Right, let me get a cloth for you.” Gil-galad fetched a cloth with warm water. After cleaning himself he began to gently clean the come and lubricant from between Celebrimbor legs. 

“Aww, you remembered what I said about afterwards.”

“Of course,” Gil-galad tossed the rag on the floor and dragged Celebrimbor up to rest properly on the pillows. “I remember everything you teach me. Are you going to stay the night?”

“Depends on when I can move again,” he mumbled into Gil’s shoulder. He remained blessedly quiet for several minutes. 

“It’s hardly dinner time,” Gil-galad said. “Should I get us something?”

Celebrimbor made an indeterminate grumbling sound. Gil got up and slipped on a loose robe. He returned after sending a servant for food. Celebrimbor was still laid out flat on his stomach on the bed. Gil-galad surveyed the rather impressive deep red color of his ass and the light pink marks on his thighs. 

“What do you have to do tomorrow?” he asked.

“Nothing that requires sitting, that’s for sure,” Celebrimbor said, resigning himself to the fact that if wanted to remain in a comfortable bed he was going to have to talk with the king.

“Are you sure?” Gil teased. “I’m supposed to go riding with Lady Taucamë tomorrow.”

“Don’t even joke,” Celebrimbor groaned. “I’d rather listen to Celeborn lecture me on proper blade shape for hours while treading water in the bay in winter than go riding tomorrow.” 

“Even if you couldn’t respond to him? All you could do was smile and nod while he extols the virtues of Doriathrim weapons?”

Celebrimbor shuddered theatrically. “Yes, even then.” He thought about sitting up, but decided against it. “Can you get me some water?”

“Yes, hold on.” Gil-galad retrieved two mugs of lukewarm water. Celebrimbor drank deeply. 

“So Círdan is still trying to find the next High Queen?” He said with his eyes closed. He would rather take a nap right now, but he suspected that part of the reason Gil sought him out was a sympathetic ear. It was the least he could do after such a glorious session that would leave him bruised and sore for at least a week. 

Gil-galad snorted. “Yes, I suspect that’s the real reason behind this political social call. we can’t even ride all that far. There’s only that one loop on the north end that’s not even two leagues.”

“What’s the problem? I thought you liked women too? I heard you and Ladwen were together a few months ago.”

“We were just fooling around.” Gil shrugged. “But no. Lady Taucamë is lovely. I just would rather not have a child right now, which I believe is the main reason Círdan is so insistent I wed.” 

Celebrimbor cracked an eye open. Gil-galad’s face was troubled and he was gnawing on a thin lip.

“Well, I’m not complaining if it means I can keep sleeping with you for a little while longer.” Gil flashed a smile at him. “I’m honestly surprised Círdan is still so fixated on an heir for you what with everything.” He flopped a hand around, gesturing to the world at large.

“I know.” Gil-galad sighed. “And I’d rather not continue the family tradition of having babies solely for the purpose of pleasing the child’s grandfather.” 

Celebrimbor couldn’t help laughing at that. He carefully retrieved his mug from where he set it down and knocked it against Gil-galad’s. “To us; and to our grandfathers, whose unbearable expectations led to our births.”

“To disappointing our families.” Gil-galad said in reply. He set down his mug and kissed the top of Celebrimbor’s head. “Now take a nap or something. I’ll get you when dinner is here.”

Celebrimbor sank down into the pillows with a blissful sigh and was asleep before Gil-galad left the room.


End file.
